Revolutionary Road 3/5 Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Michael Shannon ‘amp; Kate Winslet Directed by Sam Mendes 119 min.
Commonly derided by phrases like ‘sexual repression,’ ‘consensus thinking’ and even ‘suburban sprawl,’ the 1950s isn’t the most difficult decade to barb ‘mdash; especially when you approach it from a sun-flecked New England homestead cropped with congruent lawns. But Sam Mendes tries ‘mdash; with an adaptation of Richard Yates’ well-received novel ‘mdash; and largely succeeds, though he hammers that exhausted trope with a good deal of effort. Despite blasting American Victorianism for essentially not being the 1960s, ‘Revolutionary Road’ courts versatile acting with a steely, modestly nuanced style.
Looking to land a happy marriage in the suburbs, carved out of Connecticut forestry and fertilized with picket fences, Frank (played by a brooding, self-assured Leonardo DiCaprio) and April Wheeler (Kate Winslet) settle into the postcard clime of Revolutionary Road ‘mdash; well aware that settling down isn’t exactly what they’d hoped for in younger years. Still, the Wheelers decide to bury their quiet desperation in the past ‘mdash; contrary to April’s stapled smile and kitchen ennui ‘mdash; and endure the Eisenhower doldrums for the sake of security.
That is, until Frank rather capriciously indulges his wife’s whimsical bout of expatriotism,’ announcing to neighbors that the Wheelers are moving to the bohemian paradise of Paris in the coming month. And yet, just when ‘Revolutionary Road’ looks to rewrite ‘Madame Bovary’ ‘mdash; trading arsenic for tickets on AirFrance ‘mdash; Yates’ true contempt for bourgeois society sets in, inherited and deeply indebted to French realism.
Making an infrequent and thoroughly mordant appearance as the voice of reason in the film is John Givings, a soapboxing S.O.B. (played with stammering snark by Michael Shannon) visiting the Wheelers from the local psychiatric ward. Scissoring the illusions of middle-class existence with cutting truths,’ he stands as the only figure both Frank and April feel they can relate to. But when Frank is offered a pretty promotion and reason to stick around in the States, Givings’ assails begin to fuel the domestic disturbances that follow.
If Mendes was trying to recapture the acclaim of his debut familial darling ‘mdash; yet again peddling two egos warring within the American marriage ‘mdash; he falls short without enlivening characters as dynamic, animate or, well, revolutionary as April Wheeler.
Recreated with sanded-down motives and bullet-point complexity by a fairly new Justin Haythe, the film’s cast of non-Aprils are far more shallow than ‘Road”s onscreen heroine (and Mendes’ offscreen wife).
Though Winslet’s performance pulls the gravity of nearly every scene behind her (garnering its only Golden Globe), April’s story ultimately boils down to a depressing situational tragedy of a woman suffocating in a man’s world.
Transported from the 1950s, ‘Road’ loses half its salience on the spot. To the credit of cinematographer Roger Deakins and composer Thomas Newman, however, ‘Revolutionary Road’ reads artfully upon projection, modeling poetic compositions and a polished score that crowns scenes like gilded caps. With a faint pollen-wash glazing its indoor scenery, the spare score ‘mdash; layered with woodwinds and jazz ‘mdash; positively welds together the film’s many jo
ints.
After a welcomed return to the theater for the past three years, having started his career on the English stage, Mendes’ cathartic surroundings have rubbed off with good measure in his latest project. The last time suburbia was shot through his lens, by contrast, he was still learning, overly eager to employ every technique at hand.’ Symbolism pummeled the audience every 35 seconds, while a Thoreau-impersonating voiceover always made sure’ the film was speaking directly to you.
Nine years later, ‘Road’ takes a more naturalistic approach ‘mdash; though no less skillful ‘mdash; relying less on its director’s heavy-handed technique and more on the caliber of time-trained actors imposed onto a live background.
In the end, Winslet and Mendes steer the film’s course as best they can against an American poltiscape in which Puritanism has seeped back into the collective consciousness ‘mdash; right on cue with the falling of the Iron Curtain.